Broken Strings

Speeches and propositions

“Fine, why do you ask?”

“You seem a little vacant,” when I mustered the courage to look up from my diary I noticed his eyes confused and his mouth holding a crooked smile.

“Just tired,” I admit. “Are you planning on going to this dance?” the oak tree sheltered most of us whilst we sat.

“Well I’ve never actually been to a dance, I’m not sure whether it would be something worth going to? What do you reckon?” he looked back down, his fingers scraping the flaky paint from the table.

“I would like to but I have three problems,” his eyes stare straight through me as if reading the story in my soul.

“What’s number one?”

“That I don’t have a partner to go with,” I hold up a single finger.

“And number two?”

I hold up a second finger, “I have chores that if they aren’t done I won’t be fed. Quite literally,” I fold my arms across the table and rest my chin. 

“Number three?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” a small chuckle escapes his lips, “See!”

“I promise,” he swears with a now serious expression.

“I don’t own a dress,” I can’t meet his gaze, afraid of what it holds so I look down. My faded jeans hug my legs and a maroon knitted cardigan covers my body, sealing in the warmth.

“I don’t see any problems there,” Peter leaned back against the oak. I wondered whether heard the same thing I said.

“Huh?”

“Amelia. Number three, we’ll buy you a dress. You don’t have to worry. Number two, you don’t have to worry about not getting fed, I’ll take us out for dinner. And number three, will you go with me to the dance?” I am lost for words, he makes it all seem too simple. But maybe it was time for me to take a chance, take a shot in the dark.

“Yes,” I answered. To someone walking in on the conversation midway, they’d think we were getting married. “Just as friends,” I confirmed.

“Yes, as friends,” he said with a cheeky grin. His wavy auburn hair showed flecks of gold in the right light.

“Well I suppose so,” I tried not to sound so excited but I was unsuccessful. Peter’s face lit up.

“Great!” he exclaimed. His outburst seemed to catch unwanted attention.

Jim began waltzing towards us, soccer ball in toe. His blue and white football boots tear shreds in the grass until he stops just a few meters from the oak, “What’s so great ranga?” the way he spoke reminded me distinctively of my father. His teeth stayed clenched and saliva spitting from his mouth. The gap between his nose and mouth began to develop beads of sweat that dripped slowly into his mouth.

“None of your business,” once again Peter kept his cool.

“Everything is my business,” Jim sneered. His eyes became squinted the angrier he got.

“Not necessarily,” Peter replied looking down to his ink stained diary.

“What are you writing about? Your girlfriend?” I saw something snap in Peter’s eyes at that moment and I clenched my fists hoping he would keep it together.

“Once again Jim, it isn’t any of your business. And please don’t speak about Amelia like that, she deserves more respect than you ever will. We’re friends for your information, yes that’s right, men and women can be friends without immature rodents like you interrupting the peace,” Jim looked as though he had stepped into an unparalleled universe. He was so shocked and frankly, so was I.

“You’re weird man,” he stuttered before kicking the ball back to his mates on the field.

“I’m weird?” huffed Peter once Jim had left.

“I think he’s a hypocrite,” I mumbled.

Silence.

“That was some speech,” I began thanking him. His eyes rose from his diary, I wish I knew what he was writing.

“Just telling it how it is.”

“I don’t think I deserve that many compliments,” I stutter, catching my tongue on various words.

“You deserve more than you give yourself credit for.”

I must say this is quite a snappy update but I wanted to give you all two chapters to get into it a little and get to know Peter and Amelia a little better. I hope your enjoying it. Loving you all! xoxo